


The Most Important One of All (Alex Gaskarth)

by AMelancholySunshine



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: F/M, London, Playing Too Much Video Games, SongPop!, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMelancholySunshine/pseuds/AMelancholySunshine
Summary: Realizing just how long you’ve been playing SongPop with him, the music trivia game, Alex confiscates your phone. But, surely, one more game can’t hurt. Right?Based on this photo: https://mylovelyhopefullifetolive.tumblr.com/post/619833707251023872/the-most-important-one-of-all-alex-gaskarth
Relationships: Alex Gaskarth/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4
Collections: Bandom Fanfiction





	The Most Important One of All (Alex Gaskarth)

_"_ We can't keep doing this.''

Declaring this while abruptly slamming his phone to the surface of the hotel room's desk, Alex pushes himself away from the table, his efforts to stand up momentarily halted by the cramping in his legs, neck and fingers, a result of excessive sitting and continuous screen tapping, then practically stomps over to the pull-away couch, profiting from your concentrated state to delicately pluck your phone away from its place.

Being too snug in your body placement, head against the left armrest, feet resting on the right, you don't notice his closeness, much less the disappearance of your mobile. Still in a daze left by overblown game play and following instinct, you quickly tap on the imagined white box containing the correct song title, only to feel polyester against your index, the anxiety left by the sudden exodus of the smart device making you sit up and ponder, "wha—?"

" I'm sorry, but I had to (Y/N)."

Still being in that buzzed out state usually accompanying staring at a screen for too long, you rapidly locate the source of the responsible tone, that is, standing in front of the double bed, before letting the mix of confusion, tiredness and anger exclaim for you, "Why'd we have to stop? I was _this_ close from mastering that playlist!"

"In between the Blink, pop punk, pop-punk revival, pop punk rockers, best of the 2000s, boy bands, essential rock and teen pop playlists." Taking an amplified breath, he continues enumerating your requests, " _along_ with the Simple Plan, Panic! Twenty One Pilots, 5 Seconds of Summer, Shinedown _and_ Fueled by Ramen ones, do you think that one more playlist is really going to make a difference?"

"But, ' _Lex,"_ you whine, restlessness making you completely ignore the unhealthy progress you'd made in the trivia music game, instead encouraging you to play more, "I thought the whole point was to see who was the biggest music buff between you and me."

"That was before I realized I had an interview and a show in a couple of hours,” he admits in guilt, running a hand through his blonde locks before pointing sarcastically. "Unlike _mademoiselle_ here who can just sleep in while her boyfriend answers tough questions at the crack of dawn."

Following his sarcastic spirit, you nearly point out that it was his decision, and his bandmates, from the start, to be in a band, and consequently, participate in everything that entailed but are interrupted when he whispers, "Look at me. I'm a mess."

Putting aside your agitation, curiosity and a touch of reality brings you to attentively look over at the man. And truth was, with his hand tucked into his disheveled hair, multiple holes in his white T-shirt, though judging by their perfectness they had probably been pre-cut and not made out of frustration from losing to you and slightly agape mouth, Alex _really_ was a mess. Perhaps was stood out the most, however, was his facial expression, how heavy-lidded his eyes were, and overall, just how the energy he was radiating was synonymous with _exhaustion._

A quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, it's graphics displaying a bright "1:30" has your body folding in shame. Had it really been that long since you'd landed in London and plopped down on the couch with your phone? Had you even remembered the boys playing Call of Duty on the widescreen, then retreating to their own rooms to get some much-needed sleep? Had Alex even played with them or was he occupied with you? Had you even _seen_ them leave, much less _wished_ them sweet dreams? No, it was all a blur. All you could see behind your eyelids was Song Pop's family-friendly graphics, a list of artists and titles name, not to mention _hear_ the automated trumpet sound indicating that you'd won a game.

You couldn't help it, though. The thrill of seeing who was victorious, even if, on occasion, the answers were a random guess, of witnessing the other's level of competitiveness and, at that, who'd say the silliest threats, but most importantly, the one who'd get more cocky, often leading to them losing that match. All were sending adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Besides, is sleeping _really_ as necessary as the experts say? Couldn't the energy of screaming fans be enough to keep him awake? Furthermore, the fans would get a kick out of it, showing the reality of binge video game playing. Better yet, who knew, it might even become a new contender for a segment on Crash Test Live, on the same basis as "Are You Smarter than Jack?"

So, you tried, shamelessly.

"We missed the most important playlist of all, though."

"We _did_?" He asks with furrowed eyebrows, stunned at how you could still keep playing, when all he was thinking about was letting his body hit the mattress. 

"Yup. Third Eye Blind."


End file.
